


A Crown for the Forgotten

by AugustStories



Series: Season 15 Oneshots [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adam Milligan is Not Forgotten, Demons, Episode: s14e20 Moriah, Episode: s15e01 Back and to the Future, Episode: s15e02 Raising Hell, Episode: s15e03 The Rupture, Season/Series 15, The Cage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 17:36:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21201491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AugustStories/pseuds/AugustStories
Summary: The door didn't open as much as the Cage shattered like a glass house in a hurricane.Sitting in what was no longer a corner of the Cage, he raised his head and opened his eyes.





	A Crown for the Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> @lsangel2 said this line: "Another thread last week was power, and all this about thrones and ruling are setting us up for a ruler of hell to come back into the picture." in @FangasmSPN 's reaction/review of "The Rupture" (you can find that here: https://fangasmthebook.com/2019/10/26/lynn-and-nightsky-watch-supernatural-the-rupture-with-lots-of-tissues/) and all, ALL, my mind could think of when I read that was this.

The door didn't open as much as the Cage shattered like a glass house in a hurricane.

From one moment to the next the suffocating silence and darkness disappeared in a crescendo of blinding whiteness and the splintering of magic. Sounds like metal creaking and bending pierced the stale air and then there was no sound at all for a short short split of a second that still felt like a eternity before violence in sound crashed over them and... the Cage fell.

Like glass panes in a murderous storm.

And just as fast that destructive force disappeared again and silence ruled once more.

Sitting in what was no longer a corner of the Cage, he raised his head and opened his eyes.

\--

He held still for a moment longer, the Cage hadn't been able to fool him for a long time now but he couldn't rule it out either. He remained motionless in his body for the most part and simply watched his surroundings, easier now without the visual constraints of the Cage's barriers and the magical layers encasing it.

The silence was familiar, was soothing after the violence of sound that had woken him from the pit inside of himself he had stepped into to seek more of... The silence was familiar but when he really strained his ears, when he reached for that something inside of himself, he couldn't hear anything either. No screams, no cackling, no pleading, no taunting.

Eyes were watching from the ledges in the darkness still, less than usual though, and even those who remained now were quick to leave when he caught their gaze. He could hear them scrambling off, could hear them sharing the warning as they disappeared into the vaste caverns that led up to the higher levels of Hells.

'The Cage is open.'

'He is awake.'

And none of them had any real idea over who was truly awake.

\--

Freed from the leashes of the Cage's magic his senses could truly reach out in the days that followed its destruction. Feeling, grasping, searching. He was in no hurry to go anywhere, he could feel the traces of the power now that had freed him, he could feel the tears and gaping holes of Hell, the rivers of souls and spirits escaping up to Earth.

He could hear the demons rampaging the corridors, breaking open more doors and ransacking closed chests.

He could feel it all.

Stretched out his hands as the tendrils of darkness no longer filtered in through just cracks but ambushed him like waves from all sides. He closed his eyes and let them come, bathed in the taint and breathed it in like fresh air.

Breathed in the power.

He felt it crawling through his veins, rushing towards that part deep inside of himself that had long since broken down walls and opened itself up to the scorching heat of the pit. The scorching heat of Hell.

His companion, that presence inside of himself, remained quiet and settled, he hadn't shown himself or shown interest in near 500 years, had given everything over to him. So he slowly rolled his head and his shoulders and hummed to himself as the darkness carressed his skin like gentle hands.

And he waited.

He had time.

Nothing was running away for him.

They came again, not at close anymore, looking out from behind pillars, the daring ones, he liked the daring ones.

'He's still sitting there.'

'He's awake.'

And just to show them that he was not just sitting there, he moved slowly into a crouch and then raised himself to his full height, his fingers moved through the darkness like he was pushing at water in a river, only the river flowed into him. When he still heard no quick steps retreating, he went for more effect and uncurled wings for the first time in a millenium, for the first time since he had fallen. Like electricity it sizzled as the feathers came in contact with the fainted spells to subdue Grace, as the darkness of Hell crashed against the white light of Heaven.

If he wanted to, he could have fought it, no effort at all it would mean to throw up the walls, to let Heaven's energy and power within himself win out against the taint around him. One swoop of powerful wings and he would have been topside in no time at all.

But he didn't want to.

He stood still now. He kept the walls turned down still. He let the darkness float inside still.

He waited.

Still.

The demons scattered now, afraid.

Afraid of the potential.

Afraid of power.

And still he stood still.

\--

Weeks passed and with every day he felt himself grow stronger.

Felt the darkness settle into every part of himself.

Felt it burn away at the edges of that light that remained inside of him but he didn't let it burn it out, a little gentle nudge at his companion was all it took to have the strength to twist it, to let the darkness change it.

White light didn't diminish, it didn't fade away, it turned black.

It turned from cold to hot.

It turned flawless white feathers into shimmering black ones that thrummed with power.

It turned Heaven into Hell.

\--

Grace wasn't supposed to endure in Hell without fading, he had done it anyway.

Grace wasn't supposed to strive in Hell, he had achieved it anyway.

A soul as black as tar and Grace as hot as magma.

His transformation was complete.

What had started as a weakness had now become his strength.

And then his moment had come, he was done with waiting.

\--

The Enochian singing rang into every corner of Hell like a beacon for predators, like an invitation to corrupt and taint and take.

The clang of Lilith's crook calling the souls, spirits and demons back to Hell like the rats they were, like the loyal little foot soldiers they would soon become again.

But not in the hands of Belphegor.

Not in his.

He flew and left the Cage, rose himself higher until he set bare feet down upon the ground of the highest ledge. A demon dared to flash its teeth at him and he disintegrated it with a lazy snap of two fingers.

The song of Lilith's crook stopped and he could feel the Grace at that angel flare up, Castiel, he knew that one, Belphegor's strength fading and then being burned away by light. Above them all Hell was closing slowly.

It didn't bother him, no leak meant he could bring order back faster.

Castiel made for the exits and he let him. He let him leave when it would have been no strain at all to catch up to him, to crush him beneath strong hands, to burn him out, to turn him into nothing but ash and dust for what he had done to him. What he and the Winchesters had done to him.

Vengeance and Betrayal, Bitterness and Disgust.

All of it had brought him right here.

But he let the angel get away.

One last time.

He walked along the corridors, his re-transformed constructs that had been formed to resemble human buildings, turned sleek corridors into daunting caverns as he went deeper towards the parts of Hell that barely anyone had stepped into a long time. Demons he encountered on his path either fell to their knees or were no longer, fingers gently trailing over bowed heads as he walked along their lines.

Someone who had once meant something to him had been meant to walk these caverns, had been meant to walk towards his goal now but he was gone.

Had been gone from him for a long time.

He turned the last corner and approached the closed double doors, more demons had arrived now, had flocked to darkness as their instincts commanded, and wherever he was was now the darkest place in all of Hell.

A look and two demons arose from their kneeling positions along the lines of bowed statues. They pushed the doors open at the same time as something strong hurled itself into the last closing rift of Hell, carrying with itself the lost souls and ghosts. Demons twitched and shifted, feeling the power but he shushed them with gentle wings, sheltered them like scared children because he could feel how the witch was dead before she hit the ground in Hell, how her power so grounded on Earth's strengths and nature faded quick in the emptiness of Hell.

No threat.

Calmed under his touch the demons arose now in numbers and walked into the hall that had been revealed, took their places on the wide open smooth black floor.

He looked up upon the pillars that lined the center, formed a path up to the platform that rose up so high, that reeked of strength and admiration. He looked upon the stone statues with their bowed heads, bowed in supplication and devotion.

He snapped his fingers and flames erupted from the torches placed on every pillar, placed in the folded hands of the statues who stood like guards as he walked past, his wings gliding along their cloaks that shimmered like flowing blood in the shine of golden fire.

He was no Knight.

He was no Prince.

He stepped up to the old built that hadn't been touched in millenia, he wiped away the dust with one wave of his hand and then slowly sat down. Leaning back, hands resting on the sides, his feet on eye level with the demons kneeling motionless on the ground still.

There was only one thing he was now.

Only one destiny he had now.

No more begging, no more pleading. No more weakness.

Pure power. Pure strength.

Two torches on either side of the throne let his hair shimmer golden.

Adam raised his head, smiled and flashed his eyes black.

The new King of Hell.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it.


End file.
